The Son of Darkness
by BookLover1307
Summary: Halloween 1981, the day that everything changed. Lord Voldemort took Harry to raise as his own. After seizing control of Britain's wizarding world, Voldemort thought he won. Until, he begins to expand his rule and those he suppressed begin to fight back.
1. Prologue

**Story Key**

_*** *** flashback_

_letter/article_

**date **

* * *

**1 October 1981**

Were repugnance to take a human form, Tom Riddle would not hesitate to say that she stood before him. Matted gray hair hung limply against the woman's shoulders, her arms so thin they appeared as if they would crumble with the lightest of touch. Her dress, which must have once been white, hung loosely to the floor. A putrid smell radiated from her, like rotting flesh, that permeated the air.

"Tom Riddle," the woman rasped, as though she had inhaled smoke for a century. Her eyes snapped open revealing nothing but white.

Tom inclined his head almost imperceptibly. He didn't trust the woman before him. Oracles were known for their trickery, he would not lower his guard even for a moment. He hadn't wanted to come, he thought it would be useless. However, as of late he had been doing something he had never done before. He had begun to doubt his plans.

He knew what he should do, he should kill the boy. By killing Harry Potter he would eliminate one of the only remaining threats to his plans. But something, a very small something in the back of his mind, told him not to. The boy could be of use to him and his cause if he went about it properly, but he had his doubts.

If he allowed the boy to live, if he took him and trained him, the boy could betray him. There were too many variables even for him to factor in. Then he recalled a passage from the diary of one of his ancestors, Antioch Slytherin, who wrote of his discovery of a cave on the Isle of Mischiq where an oracle dwelled.

Tom knew that no one could tell the future with one hundred percent certainty; there were too many variables. Every choice leads to a culmination that is ones future. A future that can change every day, at the slightest decision. But, oracles were known for knowing more than mere seers, and even he did not doubt their powers. A prophecy had led to his uncertainty, it was only fitting that an oracle would confirm that his plan would culminate into the very world he wanted to create.

"I know why you have come." As the oracle spoke the fire that gave light to the cave dimmed. Flames flickered against giant crystals that protruded from the floor, casting shadows that danced as if they were human. "You wish to know if the boy will bring you what you seek."

"I do," Tom answered. He watched as the fire flared to life, the flames shot up twelve feet into the air. A faint hissing sound echoed around the cave. Tom could sense them before he saw them, a dozen snakes, all varying shades of green slithered from behind a giant crystal. The snakes slithered until they were surrounding the oracle.

The oracle bent down, she laid her palm flat against the ground. Tom's eyes narrowed as one of the snakes wrapped around her forearm.

"Three centuries," the oracle said. Her raspy tone sounded far away. "I have been in this cave for three centuries." Tom watched the oracle in silence.

She turned her eyes to Tom. "You know not of what you sought all those years ago." Decades of occlumency was the only thing that stopped Tom from stiffening. "But you did not come here for that." She brushed her wrinkled palm against the scales of the snake.

"My time on earth is almost at an end," the oracle's voice lost some of it's raspiness. "I have seen your future, every cross road, every choice, every possibility." One of the snakes began to hiss, followed by another, until an ominous song echoed around the cave. The crystal walls amplified the sound making it sound as though there were hundreds of snakes. Tom made no move other than the further narrowing of his eyes.

"I cannot tell you what is to come Tom Riddle, but know this, no matter what path you choose, the boy's name will live on until the earth stops spinning and the sun no longer shines. Until the winds die and the highest mountains crumble to dust." The snakes song grew louder. "Together, your names shall live on in the minds of witches and wizards for centuries to come. With him you can reach glory." Triumph flared to life in the depths of Tom's blue eyes.

The corner of the oracles lips curved up and slowly she smiled revealing a set of stained uneven teeth. A low chuckle escaped her throat before dying out almost as soon as it began. "But heed my warning." Her tongue shot out and ran over her dry, cracked lips. "The boy will bring destruction to the wizarding world, the likes of which no one has ever seen. Blood shall flow from the halls of the place you once called home. And pain," the oracle took in a shaky breath, "there will be much pain."

Tom watched as the snakes began to circle around the oracle, his mind bubbling like a cauldron about to explode. He was no stranger to pain, it was after all, one of his oldest friends. He had thought about his plans for months. If the boy would bring about the end he sought, he would deal with whatever came along.

"A decision made cannot be undone," the oracle said. Tom had to stop himself from reacting. Her voice was velvety soft, like the smoothest of silk. A faint silver light began to surround the oracle. Tom took a step back and cast a shield when the silver light grew bright.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tom demanded. Danger laced his words.

The light faded, where the old woman had been, a beautiful woman stood in her place. He knew it was the oracle. The raggedy dress was whole, a glimmering white. Silvery blonde hair flowed down her back. The only part of her that wasn't beautiful were her eyes. They were gray, and so very cold. As if they had seen all of the horrible things that had ever been, and ever would be. And Tom knew they probably had.

"Do not fear the past Tom Riddle," the oracle said. "for the future is where the true danger lies."

Tom opened his mouth to speak when the oracle froze. As if time had slowed down the oracle fell to the floor, her body made no sound. Her gray eyes glowed as bright as a lumos before dying out. The snakes around her hissed before crumbling to dust.

Tom stared down at the dead body of the oracle. The woman's last words echoed in his head. He cast them out. He knew what he would do. He turned around, the swishing of his black robe the only sound in the cave. His feet made no sound as he strode from the cave.

He had plans to finalize.

* * *

**AN: ****AN: This story will be mostly from Harry Potter's POV, but will include POV's from others. This will be a realistic, very dark Harry. Tom Riddle has not lost his mind like in canon, and he has more patience. Tom/Voldemort will be more like when he was younger, open to more ideas and cunning. After the prologue this story will skip to when Harry is seventeen.  
Warning: As this will be a realistic story, there will be very dark elements.**

******All reviews are welcome, and I'll be happy to answer any questions.**

******The next chapter will skip to when Harry is 17, there will be some flashbacks to fill in some parts.**


	2. Chapter 1

**20 August 1997**

Tom Riddle poured himself his third glass of Firewhiskey. He hadn't felt this wary about a plan in sixteen years. Sixteen years. On occasion, he forgot how long it had been since he had killed the Potter's and taken their child. His life, and all of Britain had changed drastically since then. He had everything he had always dreamed of. He ruled Britain's wizarding world, and he killed all who opposed him. But he wanted more.

It wasn't enough that he had control of Britain, he wanted control of it all. From the America's to deepest forest in Africa, he wanted to rule it all. It had taken years for him to assert full control of Britain. There had been those who had opposed him, led by the old fool, Albus Dumbledore. But he, along with his Death Eaters, had killed everyone who stood up to him, and Dumbledore had gone into hiding.

Tom knew Dumbledore wasn't gone. Tom knew Dumbledore was planning his defeat, along with his precious Order of the Phoenix. But Tom was ready. His ranks of Death Eaters were stronger than ever and the Ministry was filled with those who supported him. Yes, there were families and individuals who wanted his blood. They were smart enough to keep quiet. Even the more vocal families such as the Weasley's and Bones' kept quiet.

But he knew could feel it in his bones, something big was coming. Something that would change the course of the entire wizarding world's future.

_***August 5, 1991***_

_"Why don't you just kill them all?" Hadrian asked hotly. "The Weasley's, Bones', Diggory's, and everyone else who we know is a part of the Order?" Hadrian paced back and forth. "You're more powerful than all of them combined!" _

_"Sit down Hadrian," Tom said. Hadrian stared at his father. "Sit." Tom could see his son fighting an internal battle. He waited while several emotions flickered across Hadrian's eyes: confusion, frustration, annoyance, and anger. Finally, after almost a minute, Hadrian sat down._

_"You're a child, Hadrian, your knowledge is not as vast as you think it is," Tom began. He could sense the tension building in his son, and see the indignation. He held up his hand. "It is true, I could dispatch my Death Eaters to every village in Britain. I could tell them to slaughter my enemies, be they man, woman, or child. But do you know what would happen?"_

_Hadrian's green eyes blazed with annoyance from his earlier comment. Tom reigned in his temper at his sons disrespect. No matter how mature his son was for his age, he was still a child. _

_"Shall I tell you then?" Tom asked, his words laced with a warning._

_Hadrian masked his emotions. Good, he was learning. "Yes."_

_"Those who would otherwise sit in the shadows between my side and that of Dumbledore and those who oppose me would rise up. Killing to gain power, or keep people in line, is different than killing everyone who opposes me. There are those who would escape and rally all those who would otherwise do nothing. They would rise up, and our side would take incalculable losses. War is a dangerous game, it needs to be played with a certain finesse."_

_"Your Death Eaters go on raids all the time," Hadrian interjected._

_"To instill fear Hadrian," Tom said. "A ruler can not rule without fear. Fear above all else keeps order. One day, when you stand at my side, you will understand." He paused. "As much as I would like for all to bow at my feet, I know this nothing but a foolish dream. There will always be those who oppose me. I must rule the way one must play wizards chess, with thought of every consequence."_

_Hadrian ran a finger down his nose, the way he always did when he was frustrated._

_"I understand," Hadrian said._

_Tom looked at his son. No, he didn't understand, but one day he would. _

"My Lord?" Tom's head snapped up, his face devoid of all emotion. Lucius Malfoy stood poised at the door. A green silk ribbon tied his long blonde hair into a low ponytail.

"Monsieur Delacour is ready to finalize the negotiations," Lucius said.

Tom's lips thinned. "I will be there shortly." Lucius didn't move. "Is there something else Lucius?"

Lucius looked uncharacteristically nervous. "This isn't my place-"

"Then hold your tongue," Tom said. His blue eyes darkened.

"Hadrian is my godson," Lucius said.

Tom's eyes narrowed. He knew what Lucius was going to say, he had been thinking the same thing for days. He didn't like it, but the decision was his to make. His mind was made up.

"It is the only way," Tom said. "We need them, without their support we will never win France. It must be done."

"As your friend-"

"You are not here as my friend Lucius," a warning laced his words. "You are here as my right hand man, and loyal Death Eater. Do not make me threaten you." He waved his hand towards the door. "Return to the meeting room, and speak no more of it."

Lucius looked like he wanted to argue. His gray eyes momentarily flashed with apprehension.

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius bowed.

Tom watched as Lucius left the room. He got up, smoothed down his black robes and followed him from the room. He had a deal to make.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore hadn't felt older than his years for quite some time. He had been pondering why Tom hadn't been seen in weeks, and now he knew why.

"Are you sure of this Remus?" Albus asked. His hand frozen halfway to his long white beard.

"Unfortunately," Remus Lupin replied. The werewolf looked more haggard than usual. His light brown hair was speckled gray, large purple bags surrounded his golden eyes. "The werewolves have spoken of nothing but this for days. According to one of my informants, the deal is set to be struck tonight."

The temperature in the room dropped, as though a dementor had entered the room. Albus could feel the unease of everyone present. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at Severus Snape, the man showed no emotion. His face was pale and emotionless as though carved from stone.

"Albus," Minerva McGonaggal broke the silence. "If You-Know-Who gains the support of Sebastian Delacour, not only will he have the support of the most influential people in France, but also that of the Veelas. How could this happen without us knowing about it?"

Albus clasped his hands together. The truth was, he didn't know. He thought he would've been informed if Tom had gained a significant amount of headway in regards to any country or group. He had been so focused trying to hold onto his informants in various branches of Britain's Ministry, that he had neglected to put effort into gathering information on other countries. And he would never have fathomed that the Veela's would join Tom.

Sixteen years ago, the Tom he knew never would've considered standing in the same room as a Veela. Now, he was prepared to work with them. Albus didn't know what had changed in Tom, but over the past sixteen years, the wizard seemed willing to show tolerance for all those with magic. Tom had even stopped targeting those based on their blood.

Albus, could understand the latter. Besides it making Tom a hypocrite, muggleborns made up a large percentage of the magical world, it would harm Tom to ostracize them all. Although very few held any semblance of power in Britain, there were muggleborns who followed the self-proclaimed Dark Lord. Even though they were still seen as inferior to most pure bloods.

Yet, why Tom switched his views on what he had once called "half-breeds", Albus didn't know. There weren't very many of them, especially in Britain. The werewolves had been of use to Tom. But Albus didn't know what Tom could gain from the Veela's.

"Severus," Albus began, "were you aware of this?"

Severus stepped forward from the corner where he'd been observing. He moved as quiet as a ghost. His stringy black hair bounced as he walked.

"I was not," Severus said. His tone clipped. "The Dark Lord does not tell any one person all of his plans. Not even those of us in his inner circle. I was not aware of the Dark Lord's plans to recruit the Veela. How Lupin was able to come across such information I do not know." He shot Remus a sidelong glance that Albus was sure only he noticed.

"Of course not," a sneering voice cut him off.

"Silence mutt," Severus sneered.

Sirius jumped to his feet, his shoulders tense.

"Don't you dare speak to me that way, you slimy Death Eater," Sirius snarled.

Severus' lips curled. "Azkaban did nothing to improve your temper Black." Every syllable held a trace of mockery. Sirius flinched, and a haunted look appeared on his face. In that moment he aged ten years. Albus felt a pang of guilt, he pushed it down.

"Why don't you run along like a good little mutt, maybe if you go downstairs young Miss Weasley will play fetch with you," Severus' eyes glinted like onyx.

"That is enough," Albus said. Magic laced his voice. Sirius glared at Severus, and for a moment, Albus saw a fifteen year old Sirius and Severus standing in his old office at hogwarts. "There is a war going on. We are not the enemy. You two need to let go of the past. Sirius has been out of Azkaban for six years, and in that time you two have spoken not one civil word to the other. It is time for you both to grow up."

Severus and Sirius looked murderous. Albus might as well told them to walk into a pit with a Manticore without their wands. Albus looked between the two men. He sighed as he sat back down.

"Severus, I need you to find out all that you can," Albus said.

"I will do as best I can without making the Dark Lord suspicious," Severus murmured.

"That is all I ask," Albus said. "Remus, I need you to return to your pack. We need to uncover why Tom wants the Veela's to join him."

"Isn't it obvious?" A gruff voice broke in. Everyone turned to Alastor Moody. His one good eye focused on Albus, his magical eye zoomed around the room. Grizzly scars covered his face, and a chunk of his nose was missing. "The Veela's are powerful, they possess a magic that others don't."

"We are all aware of that Alastor," Arthur Weasley interrupted. "But the Veelas are a small group. There aren't more than several hundred of them left. Why You-Know-Who would spend his time-"

"Voldemort," Alastor barked. Everyone but Albus and Kingsley Shacklebolt blanched. Alastor grunted in disgust. "How can we expect to fight him if all of you keep flinching at the mere mention of his name?"

"Alastor," Minerva admonished.

Albus sighed, Alastor was right. He had been trying to get people to say Tom's moniker for years to no avail.

"Enough," Albus said. His voice came out tired. He turned his dull blue eyes to Remus.

"I'll do what I can Albus," Remus said.

"That is all I ask," Albus said. "Be safe, and do what needs to be done to keep your cover."

Remus grimaced as he turned to leave. Albus contained a sigh, he didn't like sending Remus under cover with the werewolves. Unfortunately, Remus was one of only a handful of werewolves not loyal to Tom. The others who weren't, were too scared to do anything more than occasionally pass Remus small tidbits of information.

"Since you have the floor," Albus said, "is there anything you have to report, Severus?"

"I haven't heard from the Dark Lord in some time," Severus continued. "Now I know why. However, I have learned that the Dark Lord is rapidly growing support among purebloods in Germany."

"I was afraid of that," Albus said tiredly.

"We have to do something Albus," Kingsley Shackelbolt interjected, his voice deep and smooth as velvet. "The Order is weakening, our members are slowly being killed off. We've known for some time that Voldemort was attempting to gather foreign followers. Durmstrang has come to be a school for Death Eaters in training. We must act."

"What are you suggesting?" Arthur asked.

All eyes were on the swarthy wizard. Kingsley stood up straighter.

"Voldemort shouldn't be the only one recruiting," Kingsley said. "There are people who want to fight, they just don't know how. We need to reach out to those we know don't follow him, and begin recruiting in other countries. We can't win this war alone. He's too strong, and his army is growing too large." He turned dark eyes to Albus. "I know the Order has always been comprised mostly of those families who have fought with you from the beginning of Voldemort's rise to power. But we can't hope to win if we don't try something new."

"Kingsley is right," Albus said. "I have been a fool." Images of his youth flashed before his eyes, he pushed them away.

"Albus, you've done your best," Minerva defended.

Albus smiled, a small spark flared to life in his blue eyes.

"No, Minerva," Albus stood up. Power radiated from him as he looked at his fellow Order memers. "I never wanted to bring those into the war who didn't want to be. But Tom isn't giving anyone a chance. Tom has taken the Ministry, he has taken Hogwarts, and he has taken Britain. I have done everything I can to stop Tom, I haven't been enough. I have been a fool, an old fool. It is time to risk it all to take back Britain." All around the room people exchanged apprehensive looks. "No one has to do anything they do not want."

"We're with you Albus," Arthur said. He reached over and squeezed his wife's hand.

Tears brimmed Molly's hazel eyes. Albus felt pity for the Weasley matriarch. Two of her children attended Hogwarts, where by law all children in Britain must attend. And two of her sons, Fred and George had joined Tom's cause. Molly hadn't spoken to her twins sons since the day they left home.

He could still remember vividly, watching Molly's memory of that day.

_*** June 10, 1996 ***_

_An ominous silence fell over the yard. Even the cacophony of clucking chickens, griping garden gnomes, and rustling wind that normally filled the overgrown garden was gone. All eyes stared at the identical red heads. Their lanky bodies looked relaxed as they stuffed their hands into their jean pockets in unison._

_"What did you say?" Molly asked. Her cheeks were flushed and her shoulders stiff._

_Arthur put his hand on his wife's shoulder. _

_"We said that we aren't joining the Order," George said._

_"You've wanted to join the Order since you were twelve," Arthur said looking flummoxed._

_"Just because we said something," Fred began._

_"Doesn't make it true," George finished._

_Their faces broke into identical grins. Albus had known the Weasley twins since they were born, he had never seen them smile that way. Their smiles were cold, and their eyes colder._

_"What's going on here Fred, George?" Arthur asked. _

_"They've gone mental," Ron muttered as he stared wide eyed at his brothers. No doubt, he'd ever seen any of his siblings speak in that manner towards their mother._

_"Close your mouth Ronnie," Fred smirked._

_Ron opened his mouth to speak, then slammed his jaw shut. The tips of his ears turned red._

_"To answer your question," George said. "We're done."_

_"Done pretending to be who we're not," Fred added._

_"You see, mother," George sneered, "Our whole lives you've done nothing but compare us to Percy-"_

_"And Bill, and Charlie," Fred continued._

_"And precious little Ginny," George said. "You've laughed at our goals, calling them childish dreams. You and dad have made us feel like outcasts, like we aren't good enough."_

_"Thankfully," Fred said, "we found a new family. People who care about us. People who accept us, who we are, and what we want."_

_Arthur and Molly stared at the twins in horror and confusion. Ginny looked like she had been slapped, and Ron looked furious. Percy spluttered as red began to creep up his neck. All of their eyes held a twinge of hurt. Albus didn't want to believe what he was hearing. He knew the twins, or thought he did. They were pranksters, always laughing and smiling._

_"We love and accept you," Arthur said. Albus could hear the strain in his voice. _

_"Don't make us laugh," George spat. _

_"If you truly cared, you would've noticed every time we snuck away," Fred said._

_"You would've noticed that our grades went from mediocre to some of the best in our year," George added._

_"But it doesn't matter," George shook his head._

_"We only came home to tell you one thing," Fred said._

_Their smiles turned colder than the arctic, their eyes hardened like ice. _

_"The Dark Lord sends his regards." The twins said in unison. _

_Albus saw confusion flash on the five Weasley's faces. The twins pulled out their wands, a manic gleam in their hard blue eyes. Confusion turned to comprehension when the twins pointed their wands at the home the Weasley's had lived in for decades. Comprehension turned to horror as the twins silently cast a spell, sending streams of fire at the Burrow. _

_The sound of glass shattering filled the air, and several birds in a nearby apple tree flew into the sky. Garden gnomes ran screaming from bushes as flames devoured the Weasley's home. A blood curdling scream tore from Molly's throat as pain and betrayal filled her eyes. Molly fell to her knees as they gave out. Ron and Ginny stood frozen in shock as they watched their house go up in flames._

_Arthur ran towards the house, wand in hand, as he attempted to put out the flames. One wizard attempting to put out the fire wasn't enough. Soon, the entire Burrow was in flames. A crackling sound filled the air. The smell of burnt wood permeated the air, as the house slowly crumpled to the ground._

_"What have you done?" Percy yelled as he pulled out his wand. He pointed it at the twins. "What have you done?" His hand shook. "What have you done?" His voice cracked as he stared at his younger brothers in disbelief._

_The twins continued to smile, their wands held at their sides. They looked relaxed, but Albus could see the tight grips they had on them._

_"We've given you a warning," George replied._

_"Stay out of the Dark Lord's war," Fred said._

_Ron shook himself from his stupor and ran towards Arthur to help douse the flames._

"Of course we are," Molly added.

All around the room murmurs of agreement rang out. Determination was the prominent emotion on many of the faces, fear and apprehension mixed in. Albus couldn't blame them. If any of them were found to be working against Tom's regime, the punishment would be worse than death.

"We have plans to make," Albus stated.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.

* * *

A tall, lean young man sat regally upon a giant silver throne. Snakes wound around the arms, emeralds shone from where their eyes should be. The jewels glinted, as though blinking, giving the snakes an eery human quality. Though six fireplaces roared, their flames reaching six feet high, a cold chill hung in the air.

"That's enough," Hadrian said. The man who had been speaking instantly fell silent. Hadrian's emerald eyes glinted with amusement as the man's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

He observed the three men before him and a sneer tugged at his lips. He couldn't decide whether the men before him were imbeciles for having wasted the past three hours of his life, or if he was, for not cursing them for doing so.

"Berkendorf, return to your post at the Ministry," Hadrian intoned. "I will relay your report to my father upon his return." The man in the middle bowed low before disappearing with an audible crack. "You two, I expect a more thorough report next time." The two men stared at him hesitantly. "Was there something else?" Hadrian asked, his eyes flashed a warning.

"Not at all, young Lord," the man on the right quickly said.

"Then you're both dismissed," Hadrian said. The men bowed lowed before they too disappeared.

Hadrian rubbed the bridge of his nose. He hated when his father was out of the country. Since he had turned fifteen two years ago, Hadrian had begun taking his fathers place when the man was unavailable. The majority of his fathers Death Eaters were competent, but some, he was surprised knew which way was up.

"Wasn't that amusing?" a voiced to Hadrian's right drawled. A tall, lithe boy appeared. His blonde hair was perfectly styled, and his forest green robes impeccable.

"I serve to please you Draco," Hadrian mocked.

"Now, now," a deep voice purred, "let's play nice." A boy appeared on Hadrian's left. He had black hair, windswept, as though he had just stepped off a broom.

"Blaise Zabini telling someone to play nice?"

"That's the very definition of ironic, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh yes, dear brother. I do concur."

Hadrian waved his hand lazily and two red heads appeared in front of him. They were lanky, and wore identical grins of amusement. Fred and George Weasley's grins grew as Blaise glared at them.

"I don't know how the Dark Lord does it," Draco leaned against Hadrian's throne, his arms crossed over his chest. "Listening to those blubbering fools is enough to make anyone go mental."

"Is that what happened to you?" Blaise asked. A sickly yellow light flew towards him. In less than a second his wand was out. With a flick of his wrist a shield sprung to life, absorbing the curse. "You foul prat."

"He's not so much foul as he is arrogant." Hadrian looked up to see a Draco's cousin, Cygnus Lestrange, strut through the door.

"I'm arrogant?" Draco scoffed. "The only thing bigger than your ego is Hogwarts."

"Touchy, touchy," Cygnus smirked. "One might think you're compensating for something." He made a point to scan Draco's body, stopping under his waist.

Draco's cheeks tinged pink as Blaise and the twins laughed.

"How did the briefing go?" Cygnus asked as he conjured himself a chair. "Kill anyone?"

"He didn't even curse anyone," Draco said. A tinge of disappointment laced his words.

Hadrian shot Draco a silencing look. "They're Death Eaters, Draco, not prisoners. I won't curse them without reason, no matter how much I would sometimes like to." He turned to Cygnus. "It was a basic briefing, only three Death Eaters came to report. Nothing of consequence."

"Everything is of consequence."

Everyone except Hadrian started. Tom walked out from behind Hadrian's throne.

"You could've apparated in front of us," Hadrian said amused.

"Yes," Tom replied. "I could have." Tom placed his hand on Hadrian's shoulder.

"Hello, my Lord," Draco said respectfully.

The others greeted Tom as Hadrian eyed him. His father was able to hide his emotions like no other. Yet, Hadrian could always tell what mood his father was in. He could sense that he had something to tell Hadrian. And that Hadrian wouldn't like it.

"They were just leaving," Hadrian said.

His friends looked at him.

"Right," George said.

"Just leaving," Fred agreed.

"If you are home, my father must be as well," Draco said. "He'll be wanting me for dinner."

As Hadrian's friends said their goodbyes, Tom took the throne next to his. It looked the same, except it was slightly larger.

"What's wrong?" Hadrian asked as the wooden doors closed behind Blaise.

"Why must something always be wrong?" Tom said.

"You may be the world's most powerful occlumens but I can read it on your face," Hadrian said. "I know you know something that you don't want to tell me." He ran his left index finger over the ring on his right hand. It was a thick silver band, an emerald was set in the center. It was the Slytherin heir ring, passed down from father to son for thousands of years. "Did you not come to an agreement with the Veela's?"

Hadrian didn't think that was it. His father wasn't one to take no for an answer. He wouldn't have returned to Britain without the addition of new allies, or new prisoners.

"The Veela's will join us," Tom said. "But they wanted something in return."

Hadrian looked incredulously at his father. "Since when do you care about what others want? Especially people you don't care one knut about."

"We need the Veela's," Tom said. "With them on our side, we are one step closer to bringing the goblins to us. And Sebastian Delacour is not just the husband and father of Veela's, he's France's Minister of Magic. With him will come not only an entire breed, but a country as well."

His father was using his orator voice, the one he used on his Death Eaters. The one he used to persuade people to do whatever it was he wanted. Hadrian's eyes narrowed.

"What did you promise them?" Hadrian asked.

"Sebastian wanted to ensure the safety of his family," Tom answered. A suspicion flared to life in Hadrian's mind. "He offered me his oldest daughter, Fleur, to be your wife."

"My. What?" Hadrian asked through gritted teeth. He saw red as his left hand clenched into a fist. He prided himself on being able to control his emotions, but he was beyond furious.

"Hadrian," Tom said calmly, "It's a marriage of convenience, nothing more."

"You want me, to marry some Veela," Hadrian ground out. "The son of the Dark Lord marrying a half-breed, what will your Death Eaters say?" His eyes flashed in challenge.

His father didn't take the bait. "I am their Lord, they will say what I tell them to." He paused. "You know I don't care about blood, you know why I spoke of pureblood supremacy. I was young, I was foolish, I needed followers. I am a halfblood, you are a halfblood. I would never see myself as inferior, nor would I you." He stood up. "The Delacour's are one of the wealthiest and most influential families in France. Sebastian's wife Appoline is the head of the Veela council, if she sides with me, the other Veela's will follow."

"I don't want to marry some girl I've never even met," Hadrian countered. He was seventeen, he didn't want to be tied down. He had fun, he wanted that fun to continue.

"She need not be your only wife," Tom said. "Since the beginning of time, many wizards have taken more than one wife. It is common in the wizarding world, especially among the elite. More wives, leads to more children. Wizards have always wanted their family name to go on. Marry Fleur, consummate the marriage, and then never share her bed if that is what you wish. Marry another woman, keep a mistress or two. I don't care. But you will marry Fleur. It is an alliance I can't afford to lose."

"You didn't ask me," Hadrian said. Frustration bubbled inside of him like a cauldron ready to explode.

Normally Hadrian followed his father's orders. He had forgone formal schooling to be trained by his father and his inner circle. He had spent the past ten years training almost non-stop. He had led raids and attended meetings he thought would never end. Because he believed in his father's cause. He thought his father could make the wizarding world better than it had ever been. But to marry some Veela he had never met?

He knew he was being irrational, something that was unlike him. If his father had asked him, he would've said yes. But for his father to make a deal regarding his romantic future without him. He didn't care that his father was the Dark Lord. That was on a whole other level of controlling. That was something pureblood families did when they didn't want their lines to be tainted.

"I understand," Tom said. "I am asking a lot of you."

Tom tilted his head an inch to the right. Hadrian bit his tongue to stop the curses he knew would escape. He was seventeen. He was being immature. He was the son of the Dark Lord. He did what needed to be done, whether or not he liked it. He was a trained warrior, he should've known better than to lose his temper. Had he been a Death Eater, he would have been writhing on the floor.

"If it's what needs to be done," Hadrian said. His voice devoid of emotion.

Tom eyed Hadrian. He kept his face empty, but he knew his father could read him like an open book.

"At times like this it may not seem like it, but I do love you, my son. I am thinking not only of myself, but of your future," Tom said. Hadrian felt his anger slowly ebb away.

"When will I meet her?" Hadrian asked. His voice less hostile.

A smile tugged on Tom's lips before it vanished. "She will arrive in three days. You will have the week before September to get to know each other." Tom stood. "The wedding shall be in December."

Hadrian felt like he had been hit by a confundus charm. "December, as in this December?"

"Yes," Tom said. "The details will be decided upon at a later date. She will stay with you at Hogwarts, not in the same room of course."

"At Hogwarts?" Hadrian asked in confusion before it hit him like a bludger.

Hadrian had been so busy the past two weeks covering for his father he had forgotten he would be teaching at Hogwarts come September. He had never attended Hogwarts, and he had only been there a dozen or so times. However, his training had been completed and his father had wanted him to be useful for their cause.

His father had said he could help by recruiting to their side. There were many neutral wizards and witches in Britain. Those too scared of his father to oppose him, those who didn't care about the war, those who wanted to pick one side but was scared of the consequences. Tom thought it would be good to have Hadrian in the school as a professor, as a seventeen year old, someone who should be a seventh year, he could be beneficial. He could relate to the students in a way older people couldn't.

"How old is she, will she be attending Hogwarts?" Hadrian asked.

"Fleur will turn twenty in September," Tom said. "She graduated from Beauxbatons two years ago."

"Of course," Hadrian said. A twenty year old fiance? Blaise was going to love that.

Tom acted as though he had said nothing. "As your betrothed you will need to find her a ring. I have already made the call, Narcissa's jeweler will be her shortly."

One of the fireplaces roared to life. A wiry man stepped out, he was dressed in a purple pinstriped suit, and had a thin handle bar mustache. He wore a smarmy smile on his face, and his eyes darted around the room greedily. He reminded Hadrian of the Hogwarts Potion's professor, Horace Slughorn. Hadrian's lips thinned.

* * *

_*!*!*!_

_Fire fell from the sky like rain. Screams filled the air as blood flowed down the cobblestone street. Glass shattered, roofs caved in, and doors blew apart. Flashes of green light mixed with jets of sickly yellow and bright blues. _

_The scene changed, pine cones littered the forest floor. Trees as tall as skyscrapers appeared to be melting. Birds chirped urgently as the image zoomed in on a frozen lake. A hand shot out from beneath the ice, cracked and bloody. The hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly. A voice seemed to be coming from beneath the frozen lake._

_"The time is upon us," the voice spoke. _

_A second hand shot out from beneath the ice. This is one too was covered in cracks and blood. A flash of silver light, and where the hands had been a small girl stood. Her eyes were gray, and cold as death. Silvery blonde hair flowed half way down her back. She smiled, her white teeth bared as if they were fangs. _

_"So much death," she purred, her eyes closed in ecstasy. "It is coming."_

_Once more the scene changed. The small girl was now sitting on a swing in a muggle park. It was dark, except for the stars splattered on the night sky._

_"Death, death, death, death," the girl chanted. A smile plastered on her face. _

_Her legs swung back and forth as the swing continued to go higher and higher. A loud sound filled the night air. The nearest tree exploded, leaves fluttered to the ground, their edges singed. Another tree exploded, bark flying into the sky. Then another tree, and another. The little girl laughed as bark and leaves rained down, not caring when cuts began to litter her body._

_"Blood shall flow through the streets," her eyes slowly turned white. "And the world shall drowned in it."_

_A low laugh escaped her throat, it grew louder and louder until it seemed as though the whole world could hear its cruel beat._

_*!*!*!_

Gray eyes snapped open as Luna Lovegood woke with a start. Her wavy blonde hair was plastered to her head, her hands were in fists. That was the third time in a week she'd had that dream. It was a sign, like everything else she saw. She had the gift of sight, she always had. Usually the visions came when she was awake, in small pieces. Lately, she'd been getting them even when she slept, and more frequently when she was awake. She didn't know what they meant, but she knew they didn't bode well.

"Luna?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. Green eyes peered up at her.

"I'm fine," Luna said. Her voice as usual came out whimsical, but the green eyes narrowed. She unclenched her fists.

"I always know when you're lying," Hadrian accused. His eyes flickered to her hands.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Luna said. "Not now."

Hadrian studied Luna carefully. She hated keeping things from him, she always had. But he would worry and she didn't want that. Not with what she knew he would be going through in the coming months. She had seen hard times ahead for him, he didn't need to worry about her.

"If you insist," Hadrian murmured.

Hadrian held his arm out. Luna put on a smile and laid her head on his shoulder. She listened to Hadrian breathe in and out until it became an even rhythm. She tried to fall asleep, but when she did the image of the small girl filled her mind. She opened her eyes, and laid in bed until dawn. The girls crazed laugh ringing in her ears.

* * *

**AN:**

**-I don't picture Voldemort/Tom hating based on blood due to him being a halfblood. I don't see him looking down on himself.**

**-Hadrian and his friends have a sort of playful banter, they're only seventeen, and even though they're powerful and Hadrian is the son of the Dark Lord they're barely adults. That back and forth banter is how my friends and I were at that age. It won't always be like that with them, but they will of course be more relaxed in a relaxed setting.**

**-Reviews are appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the lack of updates latelt, I've been busy studying for finals. In a few weeks things should calm down, until then I will update slowly.**

**After this chapter the story will become more action packed, I just needed a simply way to get Fleur involved and small hints from later storylines introduced. Please review! They give me motivation to keep writing. :) I love hearing pros and cons about what you all like! Enjoy :)**

* * *

Fleur Delacour had never been more miserable. Two days had passed since she learned of her fate, and she hated her father now more than ever. He had always been controlling, and more demanding than she knew most fathers were. He expected the best from her, from the way she presented herself in public to the grades she received while in school.

Fleur had always done what was expected of her. She wore the right clothes, she never wore her hair up, she curtsied and smiled. She was a fraud. She knew it, and her father knew it. It was only the rest of the world that didn't. She hated it. But she did it nonetheless, she knew the consequences if she didn't, and she didn't want her father to take his anger out on her, or Merlin forbid, her younger sister.

She had known from a young age that she wouldn't be allowed to marry for love. She had dreamed of meeting a handsome young man, falling in love, and running away. But she was too much of a coward to do so. Her happiness was like a pawn, forced to be sacrificed for the good of others. But the son of the Dark Lord? Even in France the dark wizard was feared. And Fleur feared that she was leaving one monster, only to be forced into marriage to another.

She had been shocked and horrified to be informed that she was going to marry Hadrian Slytherin. Her father had told her it would be an honor, and that by arranging their marriage, their family would survive. That Fleur would ensure the Delacour name lived on for eternity. That her father's influence would spread. She would've laughed if she hadn't been so horrified. The last thing she wanted her father to have was more power. But she agreed, she had to, it was agree or face her fathers wrath. Or worse, that of the Dark Lord's.

She had never seen the Dark Lord, but she had heard of him. Everyone had. He was feared by all, even the most powerful members of France's elite. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of infuriating him.

"Are you still moping about?" Fleur jumped as her fathers harsh voice filled the room.

Fleur quickly swiped at her cheeks, tears would only make her father more angry. Her father was a tall man, with broad shoulders and thick arms. His jaw was wide and his eyes bluer than the deepest ocean. They would've been beautiful, if they weren't so cold.

A small house elf stood slightly behind her father, Tippy, Fleur's personal elf. She was a small creature, with perky ears and tennis ball sized eyes. She wore a white dress, a unicorn wearing a golden crown against a light blue background embossed on her chest. The Delacour family crest.

"We are leaving for Britain in three hours," Sebastian said. He eyed Fleur with disdain. "Your elf shall see to it that you look presentable."

"Oh, yes," Tippy squeaked. She sounded nervous, the way she always did around Sebastian Delacour. "Tippy will make her mistress look perfect."

"See to it that you do," Sebastian said. The threat clear in his voice. Tippy shuddered as she nodded her head quickly, her ears flapped. Sebastian walked forward until he was three feet in front of Fleur.

"I have told you what is at stake should you fail," Sebastian said. "The Dark Lord is powerful, and the safety of France and our family rests with his alliance. Shall you disappoint him in any way," his lips curled, his handsome features distorting into something foul, "you will not like the consequences." He looked at her critically.

Fleur bit her tongue, the taste of copper filled her mouth. She wanted to scream, to cry, to bang her fists against the wall. But she had done all of that, and it had changed nothing.

"I won't disappoint you," Fleur said. Her voice barely above a whisper.

"You best not," Sebastian said. He grabbed her chin, Fleur forced herself not to flinch. "Do as the young Lord says. You will be his wife. Your mind and body will belong to him." Fleur felt tears prick at her eyes. Sebastian's grip on her chin tightened. "Did I make a mistake in choosing you to marry the young Lord? Gabrielle is eleven, according to the old laws and the new, in a few years she will be old enough to marry." Bile rose in Fleur's throat.

"I will please him," Fleur said. Her voice surprised her with its steadiness. "I will not let you down."

Sebastain eyed his daughter. Fleur forced herself to relax, for her face to empty of all emotion. Finally, after what felt like eternity, her father let go.

"Be in the parlor at a quarter till noon," Sebastain said. "Not a moment later."

Sebastian turned from the room, his boots clicked against the marble floor. As he closed the door behind him Fleur fell to the ground. Her body shook as the tears she had been holding back since her father had entered the room fell down her cheeks.

* * *

Ostentatious would be insufficient to describe the reception room at Slytherin Manor. Half the size of a quidditch pitch, the ceiling soared thirty feet high. Portraits lined the walls, witches and wizards in green trimmed robes stood regally from within gilded frames. A fireplace, tall enough for a giant to walk through crackled with orange flames. Star shaped rubies the size of a large fist glittered from the mantle.

Black dragon hide couches filled the room, feathered quilts slung over some. The Pegasus feathers they were woven from shimmered. Flowers filled antique vases, some taller than the tallest goblin. Bright reds, deep purples, and various shades of blue.

Hadrian stood in his favorite forest green robes, his posture tall and confident. He patted his pocket, he felt a small hard box.

"Remember what I said Hadrian," Tom instructed.

Hadrian glanced at his father. His mind flashed back to the previous night, to the words his father had spoken to him. _'In public, you must show your wife affection or indifference, never disdain. In private the decision is yours. A marriage can either be one of convience or one of mutual affection. But do not make the decision in haste, a relationship ruined cannot easily be repaired.'_

Hadrian was pulled to the present as the fireplace flared to life. The orange flames which had been crackling shot up and turned a sickly shade of green. The flames died down as four people stepped out.

Hadrian's eyes immediately landed on the young woman who had to be Fleur. She was tall, but still she looked as if she'd only reach his shoulders. Silvery blonde hair fell to her waist. Her eyes were as blue as Hadrian's were green. A long silk blue dress hugged her body eccentuating her curves.

An older woman who looked like Fleur, only a decade older stood behind her. A petite girl, who too looked like Fleur stood next to a man Hadrian had seen in the international wizarding paper.

"My Lord," Sebastain stepped forward and bowed. "It is an honor to see you once again. Young Lord," he turned and bowed to Hadrian, "it is of course an honor to meet you."

"My wife Appoline," Sebastian continued, "and my daughters Fleur and Gabrielle." Appoline bowed as Fleur and her sister courtesied.

"It is an honor to be in your presence my Lords," Appoline said.

Hadrian's father said nothing. He could see Sebastian stand up even straighter, his chest puffed out. He reminded Hadrian of a peacock. Hadrian looked at Fleur, he could see the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. He knew she couldn't approach him first. He stepped forward.

"Hello Fleur," Hadrian said. "I'm Hadrian, but I assume you're aware of that."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Fleur said. Her fingers pinched her dress as she curtsied.

"There's no need for that," Hadrian said. "We're to be married soon, let's not stand on social formalities." Fleur glanced at her father.

The room descended into awkward silence. Hadrian wanted to roll his eyes. He could sense his father's annoyance.

"Sebastian," Tom said smoothly, "Appoline, we have much to discuss. Hadrian will show Fleur around while we adjourn with young Gabrielle to my office."

"Of course my Lord," Sebastain said. "Enjoy your afternoon young Lord."

Hadrian was certain that comment wasn't meant for him. "You as well."

Hadrian held out his arm. Something flashed in Fleur's eyes, the emotion was gone too fast for Hadrian to decipher it. Fleur placed her hand on his forearm.

Hadrian and Fleur walked in silence through the manor. Fleur's heels make a clicking sound as she walked. Hadrian could hear her breathing. In and out, in and out.

Hadrian wouldn't deny that Fleur was beautiful, no doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was poised, and there was a fire in the depths of her eyes. It was hidden, as though it had been squashed. But he could see it.

"You're nervous," Hadrian said.

Fleur started, as though she had forgot he was there. "I'm sorry, my Lord-"

"Stop," Hadrian said. He stopped walking and Fleur froze.

"I'm sorry, did I-"

Hadrian wanted to stop her from behaving like a Death Eater before it began. Enough people bent their knee to him. He wasn't happy about their arrangement, but he was unsure how he felt about Fleur. He would be married to her for the rest of his life, he wasn't going to make a hasty judgement.

"I'm not my father," Hadrian said. He turned to face her. "I don't live and breathe formalities. Yes, there is a time and a place for bowing and all of that, but that time is not now." Fleur's eyebrows furrowed. "You are to be my wife. I didn't choose this, I know you didn't either. But we will be married, and I will not be married to a woman who feels the need to bow at my feet and call me my Lord. Hadrian. Call me Hadrian."

Fleur looked like she had been hit by a bludger. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes wide. He could understand why. Those who didn't know him thought he loved people throwing themselves at his feet. Honestly, he found it repulsive. They were all fake, and he hated fake.

"Come," Hadrian held out his arm. "I'll show you the gardens."

Fleur had never seen a more beautiful garden. Flowers of every color sprouted from the ground filling the air with a sweet scent. Sculpted bushes carved to look like unicorns, pegasi, and dragons lined a cobblestone path that led down a small hill to a quidditch pitch. Stands rose dozens of feet into the sky.

Hadrian led her to a pond surrounded by trees with pure white bark, blood red flowers hung from their limbs. Small orange frogs jumped from quaffle sized lily pads into the blue depths. Dragonflies buzzed around, their wings flapped faster than a snitch.

Fleur glanced sideways at Hadrian. She mentally scolded herself when she felt her cheeks grow warm. She had never had a boyfriend before, she had never even been alone with one. As a Veela boys and men had always thrown themselves at her, but she knew it was due to her looks. As a half Veela her allure wasn't extremely strong, but it was enough to make most males go crazy. She hated it. But it seemed as though Hadrian didn't notice her allure, and it made him even more attractive.

Hadrian was handsome, very handsome. His black hair looked effortlessly styled and his eyes resembled emeralds. His cheeks and jawbones reminded her of the models from Witch Weekly. She could feel the confidence radiate from him. And the power, she could tell he was holding it back, but she feel so much power. She kept having to remind herself that he wasn't her boyfriend, he was her betrothed, and only because their fathers had made it so.

Fleur walked until one more step and she would be in the pond. The croaking of the frogs, the sweet scent, and the cool air. It was as though she had been transported into one of the novels she loved so much. She couldn't imagine a more peaceful place. She smiled as she breathed in the cool summer air.

"I used to come out here and read as a boy." Fleur jumped as Hadrian stepped up behind her. He laughed and her cheeks tinged red. "It wasn't my intention to startle you."

"Well you did," Fleur snapped. She regretted the tone she used the moment Hadrian's lips thinned.

"Let us return to the manor," Hadrian said. "No doubt our parents have concluded their business."

Fleur closed her eyes and bit her tongue. The taste of copper filled her mouth as she mentally berated herself. For someone so intelligent she was so stupid. Hadrian had been nothing but kind to her and she lashed out at him for no reason. He had even tried to tell her something about himself. She hated looking the fool, although with her father she was used to it, and when he had laughed at her she snapped. She needed to do something before she ruined things with Hadrian before they began.

"I'm sorry," Fleur said honestly. "I don't normally speak to people like that."

Blue eyes locked with emerald and she could see intelligence in their depths, and something she couldn't quite place. Something that told her to be careful. She swallowed.

"This is a stressful situation," Hadrian said diplomatically. His tone wasn't as light as it had been earlier, and Fleur's stomach twisted further.

Hadrian held his arm out politely, but she could sense that something had changed. She swallowed down the bile that threatened to come up. If she could tell something was wrong, than her father could too.

Hadrian stared into the flames. He could feel his fathers eyes on him, and Hadrian knew he was waiting for him to comment on what he had just been told. However, for the first time in what seemed like years he felt his mind drifting.

That afternoon, oddly, he had felt himself relax along with Fleur when she had looked out over their pond. Relaxation wasn't something Hadrian had been able to partake in much as of late. Not with what was expected of him. Almost as soon at it had begun she had snapped, it was as though a different person stood before him. He was loathe to admit he had been surprised.

Hadrian knew there were many sides to Fleur, he could see it when he looked at her. She presented herself as the perfect heiress to a noble family, and held herself with confidence. However, he could see a fragile girl behind the prettily done up exterior. Hadrian didn't like weak things or weak people, but he had felt drawn to her. Especially what was hidden underneath. He didn't like it one bit.

He hadn't expected to be more than mildly intrigued by Fleur, and he certainly hadn't expected to want to get to know her. It was cliche. Boy meets girl, boy wants to get to know girl after spending less than an hour with her. It was sickening. A distraction. A distraction is something someone in his position couldn't afford. But he was stuck with Fleur for life whether or not he thought it was a good idea. At the very least he could get to know her, for purely political reasons.

"Are we in agreement Hadrian?" His fathers' voice held a tinge of anger. Hadrian knew he hated being ignored. He pulled himself from his thoughts.

"A wedding in December sounds fine," Hadrian murmured.

Tom's features softened almost imperceptibly.

"I shall have all the arrangements seen to," Tom said. "Although I detest such saccharine events, weddings are one of the oldest wizarding traditions. My heir must have the wedding of the century."

He pulled out a quill and Hadrian's lips thinned, he wasn't looking forward to it.

* * *

_The Dark Lord's Son to Marry: Hadrian Slytherin betrothed_

_By: Rita Skeeter_

_It is with much delight that I bring to you, my dear readers, this most wondrous news. At the age of seventeen, Lord Hadrian Slytherin, only son of the Dark Lord, is betrothed._

_Lord Slytherin has always been an enigma. The young heir is rarely seen outside of balls, galas, or Ministry events. When he does venture into public, he is surrounded by guards. Understandably, his well-being is of the upmost importance._

_The company he keeps is also understandably, only those of high status in the wizarding community. But his betrothed is not one of the young woman whose company he keeps, or any of the many available young women who frequently attend society events._

_So, who is this mystery woman who captured the heart of Britain's most eligible bachelor?_

_I was most surprised to find out the answer to that question, for Lord Slytherins future wife is none other than Fleur Delacour, 20, the daughter of France's Minister of Magic, Sebastian Delacour. Not only is Miss Delacour from another country, but she's a half-Veela. This news I'm sure will shock many who have believed the Dark Lord opposed all supposed half-breeds._

_Lucius Malfoy, Lord Slytherins godfather, had this to say. "My wife Narcissa and I could not be more thrilled to confirm the betrothal of our godson Hadrian to the beautiful Fleur Delacour."_

_When asked whether or not this was a ploy on the part of the Dark Lord to gain sympathy, Lucius Malfoy was adamant in his response. "The Dark Lord is many things, but if there is one thing he will never stand for, it is the use of his son as a pawn. Many people forget that the Dark Lord is not only a ruler, but a father who only wants what's best for his son. The betrothal of my godson and Miss Delacour was a personal decision made between the two of them. It is a personal matter of the heart that should be left untarnished and unquestioned."_

_There you have it my dear readers, the first scoop on what is poised to be the wedding of the century. When the wedding is due to take place remains a mystery. However, I can confirm that it will be before this time next year. I will of course, diligently keep you up to date as news becomes available_.

Hadrian Slytherin stood looking every inch the heir to the Dark Lord in dark green robes. A beautiful woman who had to be Fleur Delacour stood at his side, one thin arm looped through his. A slinky silver dress glided down her slithe frame, and blonde hair fell in large curls down her shoulders. Breathtaking didn't do the young woman justice.

Albus studied the picture carefully. Hadrian looked the picture of confidence from the way he held himself to the slightly cocky smile he wore. That smile also held happiness, but whether or not Hadrian was truly happy with his betrothed Albus couldn't guess. Fleur was much easier to read. She looked happy, or at least to those who hadn't spent a century studying people. Worry creased her eyes, and fear hid beneath their blue depths. Albus wondered if the girl was just a pawn in Tom's games.

Albus could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him as they too finished reading the morning newspaper.

"What are we going to do about this?" Surius asked as he threw down a copy of the Daily Prophet in disgust. "Those who are neutral or on our side due to Voldemort's views on half-breeds will reconsider joining him after his son weds the Delacour girl."

"Sirius is right Albus," Kingsley said. "This is a blow none of us were expecting"

Albus ran a hand down his beard. He had been truly shocked when he had seen that mornings front page of the Daily Prophet. Although, he knew he shouldn't have been. He knew that one day Tom would use his son to reach his own ends. That Rita Skeeter spun the tale to make him look innocent in his sons betrothal was expected as soon as the headlines titled had registered. Rita had sold out to the Dark Lord long ago, even before that wretched paper she worked for had. But a marriage to the half-Veela daughter of the most powerful man in France was not something Albus had expected. That a half-breed was even allowed in Slytherin manor truly shocked him. Tom was changing the rules, and now Albus had to change some of his own.

"Kingsley, your sugesstion for the upcoming Hogwarts year, you were on to something," Albus said.

It took a lot to startle Kingsley, but he started. "It will be dangerous to everyone involved. Attempting something of such caliber under the nose of a staff loyal to Voldemort, and many students we can't trust."

"Tom is planning something big," Albus countered. "We must find out what it is. It is crucial that we do."

"I don't like this Albus," Arthur said. "They're just kids. This is what the Order has spies for."

"Tom will expect that," Albus said. "In order to beat the enemy, one must think like the enemy. Let us take a page from his book." Arthur still looked uneasy. "It is for the greater good Arthur. Tom must be stopped. If his influence continues to grow there will be no stopping him."

"He's right," Kingsley said. "It's a good plan. Along with our planned recruitments, this could lead to a victory that we desperately need."

"Who do you have in mind?" Arthur asked quietly.

Albus looked around the room, his heart heavy. His eyes settled on Sirius, and understanding flashed in his eyes. A different choice. A different life.

"Neville Longbottom."

* * *

"Blasphemous," a cold voice snarled. "A filthy half-breed, what is the Dark Lord thinking? How dare he allow his reputation to be tarnished by such filth?"

"Calm down Simon," Roger Jugson's eyes darted around his office. Even in his own home he couldn't be too careful.

"Calm down?" Simon Kincaid demanded. "That whore being allowed to marry the young Lord is an insult."

"No one seems to mind-"

"Of course they don't mind," Simon interrupted, "if the Dark Lord is fine with something all of his little sheep follow."

Roger watched Simon pace back and forth, each step echoed against the cold black marble. When Roger had heard about the Dark Lord's son's engagement he had been surprised by his choice in mate. He didn't mind. It was only muggles and muggleborns he detested. He knew most of his fellow Death Eaters didn't care either, their Lord never did or allowed anything without a reason. Especially not when it involved the one person he cared for. However, Simon had become more angry the longer he thought about it.

Simon had always thought he shared a special bond with the Dark Lord. That he was above the 'sheep' as he referred to them. Roger knew it was just a fantasy, and he never thought it could hurt, but as he watched his friend become increasingly agitated a foreboding feeling surged through him.

"But I do care," Simon continued. "I care about the Dark Lord." He stopped and stared directly at Roger. Roger was shocked at the determination and hate he saw burning in his eyes. "This will only end badly for our Lord. We must stop it."

"Have you gone around the bend?" Roger asked incredulously. "The Dark Lord will kill us both."

"Not if we succeed," Simon said. "Not if we show him what a mistake this is. What it can lead to."

"I have a wife Simon," Roger stood up. "I have children. I will not play any part in your machinations."

Roger took a step forward but froze when Simon leveled his wand at his chest. He wanted to reach for his wand, but Simon could cast a curse before it was in his hand. He thought about calling one of his house elves, but the outcome would be the same. He cursed himself for having anti-apparition wards on his office.

"What are you doing?" Roger demanded. "I'm your best friend. Are you really going to kill me?"

"No," Simon said. His voice oddly detached. "But I can't let you stop me." He flicked his wrist. "Obliviate."

Roger blinked rapidly. He looked up and saw Simon standing casually near the fireplace. He rubbed his temple, odd, he hadn't had a headache in years.

"Are you feeling ill?" Simon asked. "You look quite peaky."

"A headache is all," Roger replied. "Nothing a simple potion won't cure." He frowned. "What were we talking about? The young Lords betrothal?"

"I was actually just on my way out," Simon said. "I have a meeting in an hour."

"Ok, then," Roger said.

He barely heard Simon say goodbye as he ran a hand down his face before calling his house elf for a headache potion.


End file.
